Page 27 of Reeve
“I only mean that you’ve lived your whole life beloved, doted on, looked after, praised, protected, and adored. How manyhumans on this planet would giveanythingfor what you’d like to throw away?”
“I don’t want to throw it away,” I say softly, his words hitting a mark in my heart and stinging. “I love you all. I just want to be treated like an adult.”
“Then why don’t you start acting like one?” he suggests. “Stop keeping secrets. Stop having tantrums over silly nicknames like ‘baby.’ Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” He places his mug on the coffee table and stands up. “I think you can decorate Hunter’s tree on your own, all-grown-up Reeve. And maybe give a little thought to what I said, huh?”
“Dad, come on. Don’t go. Stay.”
“No, miss—sorry—ma’am. I got other things to do.” He heads for the door, stepping back into his boots and shrugging into his parka. “Congratulations on college. Proud of you.”
And then he’s gone.
And I’m left to decorate my brother’s tree all alone, feeling like total and complete shit.
***
Two days later, I walk down the snow-covered gravel path through the woods to a giant Christmas party at Hunter and Isabella’s cabin. I could hear the cars pulling up and parking at the main campground lot as I got ready in my own cabin. By the looks of things, they invited everyone in Skagway this year!
Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop!
Music echoes through the woods as I step gingerly between candlelit luminaries. The buzz of conversation reaches my ears before the fir trees clear to show my brother’s cabin by the Taiya River. His wrap-around porch is packed with people, which leads me to believe the inside is wall-to-wall guests, too. With colorful twinkle lights wrapped around the railings and awnings, loud music blasting, and dozens of people clinking their beerbottles together, Hunter’s cabin looks more like a college frat house than the summer dwelling of a mature couple.
“Hey! Reeve!”
I look up to see Bruce Franks at the porch railing, talking to Harper, McKenna, and Tanner. He waves at me, and I wave back.
“Hi, Bruce!”
“This is some rager!” he calls to me.
Squeezing up the back stairs, I shimmy around Sandra Clearwater and her husband, Bart. As I do, someone tugs on the tail of my French braid. Over my shoulder, Joe Raven grins at me.
“It’s my favorite sister-in-law,” he says, his words slightly slurred, his cheeks very pink.
“I hope you’re sleeping at the lodge tonight,” I tell him, “because you shouldn’t be driving anywhere!”
Joe laughs at my sassiness as I continue up the stairs.
“Reeve!”
My friends from the play—Australian transplant, Wyatt, and his girlfriend, Layla—are smoking cigarettes with Layla’s sister, Neena, on Hunter’s porch swing.
“Don’t you two stay out too late tonight!” I scold Wyatt and Layla, putting on my best stage manager voice. “Show’s on Sunday!”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Wyatt with a chuckle, waving me away.
“Merry Christmas! Everything good, Reeve?” asks Priscilla Caswell, Ivy’s aunt and my high school biology teacher.
I lean close to her. “All good, Ms. C.”
“Leaving in, what…? A couple of weeks now?”
Mrs. Caswell wrote the required teacher recommendation letter for my U of A application last summer. She’s one of the only people in Skagway who knows I’ve applied to college andbeen accepted. And she’s kept my secret, for which I’m eternally grateful.
“Yep. January sixth.”
“You’re going to love it,” she says, grinning at someone over my shoulder.
Ivy’s uncle, Coach C., joins us, handing his wife a fresh Rolling Rock. “Hey, there, Reeve!”